I look down now, and see two large meat sacks hanging from my chest. When I refer to them as a body part, they are breasts; but in casual conversation, I call them 'tits' to the shock and embarrassment of everyone. It makes me a low class slut and it's the way Sir wants me to be. The way others look at me makes my pussy wet and I pretend I don't know any other names to call them. I'm aware the name come from cow teats, and how pulling on them makes the cows moo, relieves the pressure in them, and they feel all relaxed and good. The tits feel good for me when pulled too and I crave for attention whenever I look down and see the tits looking lonely.

I'm just writing the below so everyone will know everything about the tits. Hopefully everyone see the tits from my point of view.

I'm too far gone as a slave slut to see the tits as mine. I will stop calling them 'my' tits. The tits are my gift to Sir, and I am just taking care of them on his behalf. The tits on my body belongs to him! They are just a sex meter. The tits give me value as eye candy where I go, make me worth the time to get close and talk to, and useful as a stress relieve for Sir. If not for those two tits hanging off my chest, I am worthless and less likely to be given my job as head of HR. Nobody wants to talk to a flat chest women. Thank you Sir for letting me carry the tits with me for my benefit and career advancement!

The tits are soft, warm and squishy to the touch. Like a water balloon filled with warm honey. Thick, gooey and heavy. As a gift from Sir, I had weighted them and they are about 850g each, or about 1.6kg of love flesh hanging in front of my chest for everyone to see. They are a size 34DD, so they push out of whatever dress or shirt I'm wearing. There's no hiding them. This made them easier to appreciate and get men's attention. I posted previously about weighing them, and since then many men talking to me can now imagine these tits on my chest. That made me a bit easier to chat with. Thank you tits!

The tits are my medals from puberty that I cannot remove from my chest. I watched them grow from nothing to a small bump, always wondering how large they will grow, and therefore how useful I would be in the world. They kept growing and got larger, making me get larger bras like a baby outgrowing their jumpers. I buy bras in large sizes shyly but also know I will be successful in life with the tits I have hanging. My nipples are shaded dark pink and are very sensitive. It sends shivers to my core when touched by men because they don't always know the pressure to use; but they can always see my reaction as I squirm and wet myself in pain and lust. Many times they just gets hard even in my bra and it would be rubbed raw if it stays that way. I think the tits want to break free! Poor tits doing what they want.

Each time I wash my smooth body, the tits always get in the way. My body has nice smooth curves, from the legs up my pussy, over my ass, above my waist, and then suddenly two tits dangling there breaking the flow. When I wash my hair, shampooing them, I would elbow the tits accidentally, or give them a sensual rubbing with my elbow making me moan and distracted. That's when I take a few minutes longer in the shower to give the tits and my pussy some extra attention.

A women's fashion is designed to frame us as sexy sluts. No matter how powerful we are, how gender equal we claim. Every piece of dress, shirt, gown I own is carefully designed to show off my chest and the shape of the tits. See this in every female presenter, news reporter, public speaker. Their tits are always pushed up, or highlighted with a boob window, cleavage, or emphasized. It shows off my worth to everyone care to look. Even my work clothes, for its professional purpose, are slim cut and deep cleavage. The buttons just don't go any higher! The jacket pulls aside to show off my shirt underneath, cutting it sideways unlike a men's jacket. Even superman had to pull his shirt sideways himself, while mine is built in the shape of the jacket. All my shirts had low cleavage so when I'm seated, everyone can see down my chest. When I'm standing, the tits are in their face. The tits are pushed out of my chest because that's the attention spot. When I talk to anyone, the tits are closer to them that I do, so they get all the attention and that's how it is. My dress calls attention to them, and obviously even when I'm naked they get all the attention instead of me! I don't blame the men when they talk to the tits instead of looking at my face. My value is not on my face. I don't understand why I even bother wearing earrings when no one looks up at me. Nipple jewelry may be better for me.

The tits are always out and vulnerable. Always feel like they can be easily grabbed, touched, fondled, and bumped into, especially in a crowded area. My tits are always bruised and bumped into, is it all an accident or intentional? Train rides are the worst. I have little standing space and someone walking in would always push onto my chest. I protect the tits by wearing a bra when I'm allowed to wear one. Again the bra is designed to make them stand out more by strapping them painfully around my chest. Like a meat armor, but tight and make me sweat and hard to breath. The sacrifice I make to protect the tits from harm. My bra are lacy, soft cotton or satin. But weirdly only I know what they are when wearing them, but it felt to me they are meant to be seen by other men so they know about the type of bra I wear too. Why else are they like this if they are meant to be hidden under my layers of work clothes? Some days I feel the tits are a bit larger than usual, when I'm fertile, I feel my colleagues may just come in and rip the bra off, fuck me and give the tits some attention. I blame hormones.

Just last week, I wore a bodycon dress with a cutting to push the tits out front, with my bra helping to hold them high, and the jacket I wore well fitted to my body, but leaving the tits poking out between the lapels. I was a professional.. slut. No one heard what I had to say because they are looking at the tits and got distracted. I wore 3 layers of clothing to work and the tits are still proudly on display. At the end of the day they are warm and soft, just ready to be sucked, squeezed and played with.

When I'm allowed to, I shower right after work. If there was no tits or pussy inspection, Sir wants his tits smelling nice and fresh. When I cup the tits in my hand, bubbly with soap, they innocently look back at me by getting hard. I feel their weight, how soft they are, how they don't feel like mine and I fantasize about what will happen to them in a while.

Sir like to play with them any chance he had. Usually by making me bring them over. I may be doing anything and Sir will just ask me to bring the tits over. Not me, just the tits. I follow along because the tits are with me. I stand still while he pulls whatever I'm wearing up and away. Then fondling and lifting them up and dropping them down heavy. Sir would use them like stress relieve balls, or like a fidget toy when he needs to focus, playing with the nipples. I stand next to him at attention with the tits on display and wait for his touch.

Sir would comment if the tits had gone larger, more sensitive, or accusing I had played with them without his permission. I would always feel embarrassed, especially if I'm wearing something nice, feminine or formal (such as when getting ready to go work). Sir would make this properly dressed women, smelling of nice perfume, come to him and stand there to have the tits taken out and played with for a bit. Sometimes he would ask me not to stand so straight and serious, but stand with my legs open wider and have my pussy checked too! having my shirt pulled out of my pants, unbuttoned and pulled open like a curtain just to have my tits played with usually gets me wet and horny begging for more. Especially if I'm on the way to a presentation. It breaks all my mental preparation and leave me flushed and feeling like a bimbo slut. All the power and authority disappears when their feminist role model just stood there and get fondled.

Sir love to doggy fuck me from behind. His favorite way to humiliate me is to call out how the tits are swinging and drawing circles on the floor like 2 large pendulums as I'm being fucked. He would grab them and pull on them like love handles as he slams my pussy from behind swinging them all over. All women need a man that can give pleasure on all 3 sex zones all at once. Being grabbed on both breasts and fucked in the pussy is something I can't do with just 2 hands. The tits swing and slaps on each other tugging on my chest painfully but the pain and pleasure brings me over the edge like a whore. No women thinks of rights and equality when being fucked! We do have a hole and biologically they need to be filled!

Each time I look in a mirror, I'm reminded that these 2 large tits does not belong to me. I take care of them for Sir before I met him, and after we met, he took over ownership from me. I'm just the body that comes attached with the tits. The tits are a sex object, they are not mine because they are not there to make me happy. They are there to make Sir happy, to make other men's day better as eye candy. They turn me into a messy sloppy mess after they are done with their job and I have to clean them. Wiping down drool and cum round the nipples and cleaning both tits. If I'm groped and touched in public, I have to report that to Sir, telling how it happened, why I wasn't able to protect them (usually it's because of how I dress) and apologizing for not being better.

I hope with this men will have a better understanding how the tits feel for me.